SoMa: One Hundred Ways
by NeverWantedToDanceWithYou
Summary: Um, a bunch of oneshots, each ending with Soul and Maka confessing to eachother. I may add some other pairs sometime... my goal is to reach 100 total though. I will do Black Star/Tsubaki and maybe Kid/Patty or Kid/Liz after I've done a few Soul/Maka. First fanfiction that other people have read ever. Special thanks to my editor/coauthor, TsunTsunSama.
1. The Right Thing

Ashley Stuff: Okay, hi everybody. Um. I'm Ashley-chan. Hi. Again. Uh, I've never had any kind of writing thing before but I met someone today who convinced me to set this up. Special thanks to that person, TsunTsunSama who I met when she went up to me and complemented my manga drawing in German class. Because that makes sense... and she's my only friend at school. So yeah. Thank you Rosie-Sempai. Best upperclass(wo)man ever. And, um, here's one of my one shots, once Tsun was done editing. She swears a lot... it isn't my fault! And can I have reviews, please? I really want to know how I'm doing. Tsun thinks it's great but... I dunno. But I would be really grateful. And sorry to be demanding. Ok. Um. Ending this.

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**The Right Thing**

"Such. An. Asshole!" Maka screamed, hurling a pillow at the wall. Another Friday, another repeat of the nightmare that was 'father daughter' bonding time. Father and daughter, of course, in quotation marks. Maka didn't know why she still went. Why, why, why she kept giving him chances to screw her over.

"Didn't go well?" Rasped a voice from the doorway of Soul's bedroom. He was leaning against the frame, halfheartedly trying to tame his ruffled hair into something resembling his usual spikes.

"Oh, Soul, I'm so sorry. Did I wake you up?" He gave her an odd look.

"We can check up on me when I'm the one swearing and throwing shit." He slouched down on the couch beside her. "Maka, I got a question. Might help you out a bit." She sniffled, trying to calm down enough to talk, and nodded.

"Shoot."

"The hell are you doing, still hanging out with him."

"...I was wondering that myself... maybe I should just tell him it isn't working..."

"And there it is." He leaned back, and laced his fingers behind his head. "You going is the reason he's a jackass and you aren't. And you don't seem to get that."

"Huh?" Maka was confused. That didn't make any sense.

"You still haven't given up on him. Hell, you don't give up on anyone." Soul shrugged. "Makes you a good person. You're still giving him chances to make things right, still hoping he will some day."

"But... but he never does. It just..." Maka started to cry again. "It _hurts_ Soul."

"I never said you were doing the smart thing, or the easy thing. You're doing the right thing. Your dad goes with the easy choice, buys whores like they're going out of style and never, ever tries to to improve. Takes zero effort on his part. And it's why he's the asshole who couldn't keep his family together. You're not going to be like him Maka. You're going to find someone special, someone you can be with. A family." Maka thought his words over. Family. Having a family... she moved over on the couch and put her head in Soul's lap. Something she had wanted to do for so long... something she needed to ask. Maybe it was her dad, maybe it was the gratitude she felt every time he was there for her, but tonight was the night.

"Hey Soul?"

His voice, when he replied, was thick, rough. "Yeah."

"You ever think about having someone special? Someone you want to... have a family with?" He took so long to respond that Maka rolled over to look at his face, checking to see if he was okay. His strange eyes were half closed, and he was looking down at her with a warm affection.

"Don't need to." Was his answer. "I already know." When Maka pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around his neck, the kiss was just something natural, something they both knew would happen next. The right thing to do.

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Tsun Stuff: Poor Ashley is so sensitive. And thanks guys! Ashley is really excited about all this. She's kinda a lonely child and such. So. Yeah. But I'm glad everyone is enjoying her writing (I refuse to acknowledge any contribution. She deserves credit, it's her account.)


	2. Two Songs

Ashley Stuff: Tsun helped me write this. And she made everything present tense. It's weird... but. Music things. Yay. I really love piano... I half imagine the "dark" song that Soul is to be Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, and Maka's to be Vivaldi's Spring... yes I do realize they're orchestral and don't sound at all good when played together. It's a story. So. Yeah. And Tsun is doing so much work on these, we should just make a joint fanfic account. Because I can't write. I have like... so many errors, and it sounds wrong. Literally replace every "muttered, mumbled, whispered" cool words like that, with "said" in my original. Every time, she's a huge help on my work. To quote her "We are the super friends! I call Batman." But please, check out her stuff. She doesn't like plugs... but hopefully I can bribe her with a cookie not to kill me. She's the better writer of the two of us, though her stories get... weird... I feel like I'm on something when I read them. Anyway, I'm already so happy with the response I've gotten for my stuff. And the feedback is all so great... please, I would love more. We both would.

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**Two Songs**

Soul's fingers flew, dancing and twisting and turning over the black and white keys. He plays his heart out into the air of the tiny apartment, a grand piano symphony for an audience of none. It was a sweet tune, joyous and filled with little tinkling notes, and great warm echoing ones. It's a description of sorts, or maybe a message. It's new, something that's been playing in his head for years and years that he's finally found a voice for.

But one part of it still isn't right. He can't get the second part of the song to match up. Soul taps out the other half with a single hand, playing the deeper, sadder notes of the instrument. It resonates through the house, giving the living room an opressive, melancholy feeling. He tries again, weaving the tunes together. But still they don't quite match, the darker tune overpowering and drowning the light.

Soul smiles, a touch annoyed, a touch amused. The light in question wasn't the type to be outdone by anything. He tries again and again, each hand playing a different song. Suddenly there's a creak as the slightly rusted apartment door opens. His hands don't stop quite in time, and for a few notes his audience of none becomes one.

"I haven't heard that one before. Don't stop, keep playing!" Maka tells him from the doorway, and Soul has to turn to look. The early morning sun is streaming behind her, adding a radiant glow to her figure.

"Nah. It isn't finished." He replies, shutting the piano and standing up. "Maybe when it's done."

"Ok, Soul. But I'm going to hear it sooner or later." She holds up a white carton. "We can eat now, I guess. I brought milk." As usual, they have a quick snack of cereal, then dash about the apartment to get ready for school. Soul spends the day in a state of furious concentration. Not on school, of course. On his music. He fills pages with extended rants and melodies, pondering the notes, the pitch, the tempo, everything. When the last bell rings he makes a few excuses to Kid and Black Star and hurries home. Maka wouldn't be there, as usual. She always took an hour after school to study in the library.

Soul flips open his notebook to the pages he's written today, and plays each and every variation. No. No. No. None of them were working! He growls in frustration and has an irrational urge to hit the polished black wood of the piano. Soul leans forward, head coming to rest on the keys with a discordant crash, and thinks. Suddenly, an idea springs into his mind. If one is drowning the other...

Soul plays again, establishing each rhythm independantly. The way he's playing, the darker tune is more consuming than ever, drowning out a little tinkling tune that seems to be coming from far away. But slowly, steadily, the lighter piece becomes closer, brighter, shining into the darkness like a flickering candle. And, just as slowly, Soul begins to fade the darker tune out. Steadily the two switch positions until his fingers are crashing down on the keys, playing the harsh sunrise in the morning as swords of light stream across the sky. And, suddenly, it calms into a warm steady song. All the heavy, oppressive notes are gone. There's only the warm glow of an evening sunset, calm and steady and beautiful. With a sigh, Soul finishes, shutting the piano.

Was that applause? He turns around sharply to be confronted with a slim, grinning figure, stepping out of her room.

"Surprise!" Maka carols, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "That was amazing Soul!" His throat is dry. She heard it? But... "Oh, and I have a little question. I know you like to base your music off of people. Who were those two songs? I loved them both, but I can't think of a good match." Should he tell her? The clock ticks steadily like a metronome. One minute. Two. He's indecisive, lost. Maka gives him a funny look. "Soul? What are you thinking about?" His mouth opens to reply.

Nothing, nothing. For once I wanted to try something new. It wasn't based on anyone. Just a song. Just a song... "You and me." He answers. Wait! No! Dammit! Maka puts a hand over her mouth.

"Really?" She seems confused. Uncertain. Like a breeze the girl drifts closer. "But..."

"What?" He snaps, barely reigning in his frustration. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"...That sounded like... a love song." She holds up her hands. "I mean, I know that wouldn't be right, I mean, of course you didn't mean it that way." She's sitting beside him on the bench by now, and shifts nervously in her seat as she continues. "But..." Then she looks down, seeming to hunch in on herself. "That's just how I took it I suppose." Soul can hear the subtext loud and clear.

That's what I wanted it to be, I suppose.

What should he do? Nothing. Nothing. He probably interpreted it wrong. She was just embarrassed. But once again, his mouth and his brain aren't cooperating.

"It kind of was." He tells her smoothly, his voice coming out steady and calm. She squeaks a little.

"B-but-" Then she glares. "Well you certainly took your time getting around to telling me that!"

"Uh, what?" Is all that he manages before she hauled him onto his feet, pulled his head down, and kissed him fiercely.

"My room. Now." She commands, dragging him along by his shirt collar. Soul barely manages to shut the door behind him before he's pulled down onto the bed. Two songs, one light, and one dark, had been thundering through his head for so long, but he didn't even notice when the dark one disappeared.

Maybe because it wouldn't be missed.

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Tsun Stuff: My present tense is unappreciated... grawr. And really, don't try playing those two songs together. Ashley and I just tried it and it sounds like stupid. Once again, Ashley comes up with a wonderful idea. (I am still stubbornly not taking credit. Let's see how long being humble lasts...)


	3. Picture Perfect

Ashley Stuff: Inspired by an awesome doujinshi that you can find on YouTube, and my meeting with my new friend Tsun. She came up to me after seeing my drawing, then demanded to the teacher that she be moved next to me so we could keep talking. It was... pretty amazing. So I sort of used some of that that for this, along with the general plot of that doujinshi. Tsun says that this one is her favorite so far, and wants to tell everyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorited that we'll get back to you guys tomorrow when my account can PM. Also, I'm absolutely loving the comments. My first day here has been amazing... please, give me something to read when I wake up too. I'll be checking... because it isn't like I have anything else to do...

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**Picture Perfect**

Maka sniffled loudly. She felt weak, slow, half dead.

"Here. Brought you some tea and some soup." Soul offered her a steaming hot bowl and cup.

"Thanks." She snorted loudly, bringing a bright flush to her already pink cheeks. "I feel awful..."

"Well, just rest." He gave her head a little pat, then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" The girl asked, slumped on the couch.

"Out." He replied cryptically, and then he was gone, the door thudding shut behind him. Maka snorted again and started sipping the soup. Reheated chicken noodle had never been so delicious. The entire bowl was gone in a matter of minutes, and she started on the tea, taking delicate sips and enjoying the fresh taste of peppermint.

Almost absently, her gaze wandered over to Soul's room. It was, as usual, sloppy. Maka sighed and stood up. She refused to be an invalid, and if she was going to be stuck at home she could at least do some housework. Maka marched in and surveyed her duties.

First, the girl took care of the new carpet Soul had installed, made mostly of dirty t-shirts. She was a little afraid to ask why there was so little underwear in the pile. Jeans you could get away with wearing a couple times in a row. But underwear?

Next Maka started on the desk. Pens and pencils in a spare, ugly mug, schoolwork sorted into piles by subject, and books arranged neatly in an unused shelf. Maka was just about to start on his bed when she noticed the cover of something sticking out from under it. Reaching under, she pulled out a black sketchbook.

Out of curiosity more than anything else, Maka took a peek. And gasped. She flipped through, marveling at the gorgeous detail. Each one was in pencil, some inked, some left gray and indistinct, and each was a work of art. But she expected nothing less from Soul. That wasn't why she was surprised. She had gasped because every one was of her.

Maka went back on the couch, clutching the notebook to her chest. Could he... thinking fast, the girl scanned the book. After a few minutes, she noticed a little sentence on the inside cover. 'My inspiration, motivation, she'll always have my dedication.' She smiled at that. Of course it rhymed. Maka sighed in pleasure, almost forgetting how absolutely awful she felt. Then she took another sip of her tea, and went to her room. Now where had she left it...

Soul got home late that night, exhausted after a huge weekend party with Black Star.

"Yo. Maka. How are you feeling?" Now was her chance. Maka came out of her room, looking sleepy. She had been too excited to sleep of course, but had made a pathetic attempt to muss up her hair so that it would look like she had.

"Oh, hi Soul. I'm feeling much better, thanks." She had both her hands behind her back, one of them holding his sketchbook so tightly her knuckles were white. Shyly, she showed it to him. "And um... I found this cleaning your room..." For a moment, he looked horrified. Then ashamed, then embarrassed.

"Yeah... sorry... I know it's creepy. I'll throw it out. It won't happen again." He moved to take it. That was when Maka showed him her other hand, one that had an almost identical green sketchbook in it. Maka managed to flip it open one handed, and it fell to a page of Soul shirtless at the beach. Hers were done in colored pencil, in contrast to his black and white ones. Soul's mouth practically hit the floor.

"Wait..."

"You want to see it?" Maka asks, holding it out to him. He looked through it, scanning each page, every one of him. Then he hit the end of them. "Flip to the back." Maka told him. "That's the important one." Nervously, he opens it to the very last page. There, in colored pencil, is a picture of him and Maka, lips pressed together, eyes closed, arms around each other.

"Clean my room more often." He murmured, absently tracing the picture. Then he looked at her, a little half grin resting on his face.

"Once a year is enough." Maka replied, smiling right back. Slowly, hesitantly, they moved together, their fingers tracing the lines of each others bodies. But it wasn't just because she had been drawing this time, and Maka marveled at how smooth his face was as her hands ran over his jaw, his real jaw, not her attempt to capture it. Then their arms slid around each other, their eyes closed, and their lips pressed together. Picture perfect.

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Tsun Stuff: Okay, the YouTube doujinshis are really good. I didn't even know they existed, but there's like four or five really good ones. Derp derp. Anyway, this story is by far my favorite of the three. Help me convince Ashley that we need a sexy one soon!


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